


The Ties That Bind

by mldrgrl



Series: Adventures of The Lady Detective and The Writer [46]
Category: Californication (TV), The Fall (TV 2013)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Drama, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 03:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14560095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Back from the honeymoon, Stella receives some unsettling news she has to share with Hank.





	The Ties That Bind

Stella tapped her pen lightly against the agenda clipped to her folder.  It was half past three and they were behind schedule. For a meeting to discuss interdepartmental efficiency, it was not a good sign.  Only two items remained, but budgetary restrictions was the current hot topic and there seemed no end in sight on a debate over the cost effectiveness of upgrading their servers.  It was a relevant subject, but they weren’t there to make decisions, they were only there to discuss options.

 

Beside her folder, the cell phone she’d placed on the table vibrated softly and she glanced at the display.  She frowned slightly and excused herself to take the call, but no one seemed to notice when she left the conference room.  Karen rarely called her, so she could only surmise that it must be of importance.

 

“Karen?” Stella answered quietly, keeping close to the wall as she headed to the end of the corridor away from the conference room.

 

“Stella?”  

 

“Yes.  Were you looking for Hank?”

 

“Is, um, is Hank with you?”  

 

Karen’s voice trembled and was punctuated by soft sniffles, two qualities that Stella had dealt with quite frequently when interviewing the recently traumatized.  She automatically responded with the tone she’d cultivated throughout the years when speaking with victims, empathetic yet firm.

 

“No, he isn’t,” Stella said.  “I’m at work. Can you tell me what’s the matter?”

 

“I can’t call Hank.  It just...It...you have to…”

 

“Karen, tell me what’s happened.  Is it Becca?”

 

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone and then a cough and a sob.  Stella put a steadying hand against the wall and took a deep breath.

 

“Something has happened with Becca,” Stella stated.  “What is it? Karen, what’s happened?”

 

“Accident,” Karen stuttered.  “Uh, I…” Her voice trailed off and then there was a staticky sound and low murmur of voices.

 

“Karen?  Karen?”

 

“Stella, this is Fish.”

 

“Fish, what’s happened?  What’s going on?”

 

“Sorry about Karebear, I told her I’d call you but she couldn’t wait.”

 

“It’s Becca?”

 

“Car accident.  The Beckster’s in ICU, but they say she’s stable and it’s temporary.  They just have to...I’m sorry, hold on a second…”

 

Stella brought the back of her hand up to her mouth and bit lightly at the skin over her knuckle.  Her chest hurt and her stomach churned. She was brought back to the time when she’d been told that Hank was in an accident and those initial moments of shock and concern.  It was her job to remain calm in the face of extreme stress, but it was hard to do when things were personal.

 

“Stella,” Fish said, back on the phone.  “I’m sorry about that. Listen, Karebear called you because she doesn’t want Hank to hear about this over the phone.”

 

“I agree it would be best to tell him in person.  I’ll head home now. We’ll catch the first flight out.  I want to know everything about her condition though. Whatever you can tell me, don’t spare the details.”

 

“Yeah, um, let me just...there’s not very good reception right here...Karebear, I’ll be right back.”  A brief silence followed and then Fish came back, his voice a little hushed than it had been before. “Becca will be alright,” he said.  “What we know right now is that she’s got a broken collarbone and some cracked ribs, facial lacerations, and whiplash. She needs minor surgery on the shoulder.”

 

“Why is she in the ICU then?”

 

“Well, she was pretty disoriented at the scene, apparently, and...they weren’t quite sure why there was so much blood loss at first.”

 

“Blood loss?”

 

“Uh, I’m just gonna say this, Becca was pregnant.  She was...well, she lost the baby.”

 

“Oh, for Christ sake.”  Stella put a hand over her eyes and sucked in a breath.

 

“Look, we didn’t know about...well, we didn’t know.  Did you or Hank?”

 

“I wasn’t aware.  I’m sure if she had told Hank, he would have told me.  How far along was she?”

 

“Don’t know.  Becca would have to be the one to tell us.  They’ve got her sedated right now. We haven’t seen her yet.  We just got here though. The police called before they put her in the ambulance and we drove straight down.”

 

“How did this happen?”

 

“She was in a taxi and some chowderhead blew a red light, is what the police said.  He hit the car going through the intersection. The taxi driver is banged up as well, but the chowderhead has minor injuries.  Fuckin’ chowderhead.”

 

“Alright, I’m...call me if you have any news.  I’ll head home now and fetch Hank. We’ll be there as soon as we can.  Will you text me the hospital details? You’re in New York I assume?”

 

“Sure, sure.  It’s New York Presbyterian.  I’ll send it over.”

 

“Anything, any change at all, you call me.  We may be in the air, but call me.”

 

“I will.”

 

Though she wanted to take a moment or two to breathe and compose herself, Stella also didn’t want to waste any time.  She headed back to the conference room and gathered her folders while the budget argument still raged. Her office was one floor down and she took the stairs.  The administrative assistant posted outside of her office, Gemma, looked startled as she hurried towards the young woman’s desk.

 

“I’ve an emergency,” she quietly told the assistant.  “I would appreciate it very much if you would please book two flights from Heathrow to JFK as quickly as possible.  What time is it? If we’re quick about things we can be there at half past five. Any flight as close to six o’clock or thereafter will be fine.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Gemma answered.  “Do you have a return date?”

 

“Not at this time.”  Stella grabbed a Post-it on Gemma’s desk and began writing out the passport and relevant information that she had memorized for her and Hank that Gemma would need to book their flights.  “Any issues arise, text me at once. I’m stopping by home first and then headed immediately to the airport.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.  Is everything alright ma’am?”

 

“No, it is not.”  Stella finished writing out the necessary details.  She was not inclined to elaborate, but her assistant had proved to be discretionary in the few short months she’d been assigned to her.  “My daughter has been in an accident in New York.”

 

“I hope she’s alright.  I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

 

Stella nodded briefly and left Gemma’s desk for her office.  She quickly gathered her coat and shoved her laptop into her attaché.  She planned to email her superior from the car and request a short leave of absence.

 

“I’ve called your car,” Gemma said, as Stella closed the door to her office.  “I told him you’ll be needing to go on to the airport after dropping home.”

 

“Thank you,” Stella said.  She hadn’t even remembered to ask for her car to be sent around, and she was momentarily struck with a feeling of overwhelming gratitude for something so small.

 

“I’ll see to your flight now.  My best to your daughter.”

 

“Yes.”

 

After sending off an email on her phone, she agonized over how she was going to break the news to Hank when she got home.  He was likely to be upset. Any little thing regarding Becca sent him into a frenzy, and hospitalization was no minor incident.  Fish texted her with a brief update that Becca also had ten stitches for a cut above her eyebrow and they’d be taking her into surgery shortly.  Gemma texted a flight itinerary to her with a note that she’d reschedule her upcoming meetings for the week and to just let her know if she needed anything further.  She did the calculations in her head. They’d need to be out the door in under ten minutes to have sufficient time to make the flight.

 

Hank was at the downstairs table with his typewriter when she came in.  She hadn’t come up with anything to say to him that wouldn’t be upsetting, so she’d decided the only course of action she could take would just be to say it.

 

“Hey, Sherlock,” Hank said, not turning from his typewriter.  “You’re early.”

 

“Hank, I need you to look at me and listen to me right now.”

 

Hank turned, his brows raised.  Her request came out a little more forceful than she’d intended.  “You have my attention,” he said.

 

“Karen called me just a bit ago.  Becca’s been in a car accident and we need to go to New York.  My assistant has booked us a flight that leaves at 5:55 p.m. You need to go upstairs and pack a bag and we need to get in the car within the next ten minutes.  You can ask me any questions on the way.”

 

Hank blinked at her and his lips curled up as though he was about to laugh, but then he sobered and jumped out of his chair, knocking it over in his haste.  

 

“You’re joking,” he said.  “This is a sick, fucking joke.”

 

“Hank.”

 

“What car accident?  When?”

 

“This morning.  In New York.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Hank, we don’t have ti-”

 

“Just tell me!”

 

“She was in a taxi and the taxi was hit.  What I know right now is that she has a broken collarbone, cracked ribs, and some facial lacerations and a cut that needed stitches.  She’s under sedation and she needs surgery on her shoulder.” She stopped short at telling him about the miscarriage. It was not the time.

 

Hank stared at Stella for a few beats and then swiped his phone off the table and turned his back to her as he opened his contacts.  Only seconds later, before she could intervene, he was shouting at his phone.

 

“What the fuck, Karen?  Becca’s in an accident and you don’t even fucking call me?  I should be the first person you fucking call. Numero fucking uno.  What the actual fuck? No, I won’t calm down!”

 

“Hank, stop,” Stella said, putting a hand on his back.

 

Hank shook her off of him and then growled and hurled his phone across the room.  The screen shattered as it hit the kitchen tile. He kicked the overturned chair.

 

“Stop!” Stella demanded, grabbing his arm.

 

He whirled around and yanked his arm free from her.  “My fucking daughter is in the hospital!”

 

Without thinking, Stella slapped Hank across the face with so much force that it hurt her hand.  Hank gasped and stumbled back, his hand flying to his cheek. She cradled her stinging palm and grit her teeth.

 

“You hit me,” he accused.

 

“I understand that you’re worried,” she replied as calmly as she could.  “But that does not give you the right to behave like a child.”

 

“You hit me!”

 

“Go upstairs,” she ordered.  “Pack a bag, get your passport.  Do it now if you want to make the flight.”

 

“You hit me,” he said again, like a pouting, petulant child.

 

“Yes, and I’d do it again if I had to.  File an incident report if you’d like.”

 

She glared at him, unwavering.  They did not have time to argue about this.  Logically, she knew that upset people behave irrationally, but he’d never be allowed on a plane if he was belligerent.  He also needed to pack a bag and so did she. Though there wasn’t much to throw together, they had things at the loft in the city, there were still things to grab.  Passports, for one. She wanted to change out of work attire to fly as well, though she’d go as she was if they ran out of time.

 

Finally, Hank turned and shuffled towards the stairs.  “She hit me,” he muttered to himself, still holding his cheek.  Stella retrieved Hank’s broken phone and looked it over. The screen was shattered, but it was still in working order.  She tucked it in her attache and pulled out her own phone to call Karen back and apologize. She got her voicemail.

 

When Stella went upstairs, Hank was sitting at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, crying.  She went to him and rested her hands on his head. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face into her belly.

 

“You can fall apart later,” Stella told him, her hands on his shoulders.  Her palm still throbbed from when she’d struck him. “We need to make the plane.”

 

Hank nodded and then pulled away and wiped his eyes.  He threw a few t-shirts and some underwear in a duffel bag and Stella added a change of clothes to it as well as some toiletries.  She quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater. She made sure their passports were in her hand and grabbed her purse and attache.  She checked her watch. Eight minutes had passed between when she’d stepped out of the car and back onto the front landing. They were on track to make the flight, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

 

On the ride to the airport, she debated whether or not to tell him about the baby.  She didn’t want to keep anything from him, but she didn’t want to upset him further either, especially as they were about to get on a plane.  It was a hard decision for her to make, but ultimately she decided she needed to wait until they got to New York. He would probably be angry with her for withholding information, but at least they would already be in the city.

 

When they checked into their flight, with just about twenty minutes to spare, she made the executive decision to upgrade their booking to first class.  It hadn’t occurred to her when she’d asked Gemma to get the tickets, but having experienced travel with Hank before, there was always a chance he’d be recognized, and people were less likely to bother him in first class.  She’d install him in the window seat and be the first line of defense between him and any fan club member that wanted to harass him about his books.

 

They boarded the plane without any incident, but Hank was agitated and restless.  She took his hand when they sat down. He bounced his knee and pulled at his bottom lip as he stared out the window.  The boarding process dragged on, always a test of patience on a good day, but for people in an urgent situation, there was no such thing as patience.

 

“Why aren’t we moving?” Hank asked, stretching his neck to look towards the cockpit.  The last of the passengers seemed to have trickled in at least five minutes ago but the cabin door was still open.

 

“Do not make a scene,” Stella told him, squeezing his hand and pulling him back down.  “Do not get yourself thrown off this plane.”

 

“Why aren’t we moving?”

 

“Because we’re not moving.  We will be. Try to stay calm.”

 

“I need vodka.”

 

“You absolutely do not.”

 

“I can’t last for eight fucking hours without a drink.”

 

“Yes, you can.”  Stella was actually desperate for a glass of wine, but sobriety was a priority.

 

“No calls?”

 

She checked her phone.  There was an email from her superior sending his sympathies and advising her to contact HR when she could to submit a leave of absence.  God knew she had accrued an obscene amount of personal time over the years so she wasn’t worried about that. She would email HR after they spoke with Becca’s doctors and were fully appraised of the situation.

 

“Nothing,” she told him.  “No news is good news right now.”

 

“Why the fuck aren’t we  _ moving _ ?”

 

Once they were finally in the air and cruising altitude, Stella pulled out her laptop and bought the internet package for the duration.  Her text messages were linked to her computer, so she simply left it open on the chance that Karen or Fish might try to communicate with her.

 

It was a challenge keeping Hank in his seat and away from the alcohol.  He refused the inflight meal and refused to watch the movies offered on the personal screens at their seats. He did listen to music for a time, but mostly he stared out the window like he knew the route and like he could will the plane into moving faster somehow.

 

Stella tried to work on revising a report, but it was too hard to focus.  At some point in the flight, Hank began crying again, his head bent low and shoulders shaking.  The cabin was dark and quiet with most people engaged in their movies or games. She unlatched her seatbelt and raised the armrest between them.  He beat his fist against his thigh and she leaned against him, bringing her hand down to cover his fist and stop him.

 

For one of the first times in her life, Stella was unsure of what to say.  Even if she knew for certain that Becca was going to be alright, Hank wouldn’t be satisfied until he saw her for himself.  She understood, she really did, but her natural inclination was to identify a problem and solve it. The current solution was unfortunately hours away.

“This is a nightmare,” Hank said.  “I’m going to wake up and you’re going to tell me it was all a bad fucking dream.”

 

“We’ll be there soon,” she said.

 

“I want to be there  _ now _ , god dammit!”

 

“I know.”  Stella glanced towards the front of the plane where a flight attendant had leaned out of her area to check on the slight disturbance. 

 

Hank had already lost steam from his outburst though and he was back to his shoulder-shaking crying.  At the very least, it was mostly silent. She used the napkins given to her with her Diet Coke to dab at his cheeks.  The message notification on her computer pinged, which she heard, but Hank didn’t. She read the message from Fish out of the corner of her eye.

 

_ Surgery went well.  Beckster awake. Groggy and incoherent.  Doesn’t remember the accident. Doc’s going to put her back under so they can put a temp cast on her shoulder. _

 

Stella quietly read the message to Hank.  It calmed him a little. Enough that he stopped crying and wiped his eyes.  He would sporadically wipe his eyes for the rest of the plane ride and he kept his gaze out the window after that.

 

They arrived at JFK just before 9 p.m.  Instead of waiting in the taxi line, they flagged down an unmarked livery car.  Rush hour was over, so traffic was lighter than usual. Stella waited until they had crossed the bridge into Manhattan to put her hand on his leg to get his attention.

 

“Hank,” she said, keeping her voice low so the conversation would be as private as possible.  The driver didn’t seem to be paying much attention to them though, there was a Bluetooth in his ear and he mumbled every so often as though he may actually be on the phone.

 

“What?” he asked.  

 

“There is something else you need to know, and I hope you understand why I waited to tell you.”

 

“Just fucking tell me,” he said, warily.  He turned his bleary eyes to her and he looked so haggard she cupped his cheek, not the one she’d slapped earlier, the other one.

 

“Apparently, Becca was pregnant.  The accident caused a miscarriage.  We don’t know how far along she was.  She didn’t tell anyone about the baby.”

 

There was a mystified look in Hank’s eyes, like he hadn’t understood a word she’d said.  After a few moments of silence, he merely nodded and looked out the window. She kept her eye on him and listened to their driver carry on his hushed conversation as he mindlessly followed the orders of his GPS.

 

When they pulled up to the hospital, Stella was mildly surprised that Hank didn’t immediately bolt from the car.  He waited for her while she paid, and even remembered to grab their bag from the trunk. 

 

“Fourth floor,” Stella told Hank as the sliding doors opened and admitted them into the lobby.

 

They had to follow signs to the ICU, turning down one corridor and then another until they found a waiting room and Karen and Fish.  There was only two other people in the waiting room, an elderly man with his eyes closed and a woman Stella assessed to be in her early 20s reading a book.  Maybe it was the late hour or it was just a slow day at the hospital, but she expected there to be more people there. 

 

Stella took Hank’s hand as they walked through the door of the waiting room.  Karen looked up from her hunched position in her chair as Fish patted her on the back and nodded to Stella and Hank.  She first made eye contact with Stella and then Hank and time seemed to stand still for a few moments. Almost foreseeing what happened next, Stella let go of Hank’s hand and he dropped their bag.

 

Karen got up from her seat and both she and Hank crossed the room towards each other, meeting in the middle and crashing into an embrace.  They clung to each other like the drowning to life preservers. Stella could’ve felt threatened by such an obviously palpable connection between the ex-lovers, but instead she found it sad.  They were so very alike, Karen and Hank, that it made them immensely incompatible. Of course, when times were good very them, she was sure they were very, very good, but when times were bad, they both crumbled.  It was where people like herself or Fish complemented them so well. Hank and Karen could offer spontaneity and adventure, but Fish and Stella balanced it out with stability. They were ports in the storm to the forces of nature that were Hank and Karen.

 

“I’m sorry,” Hank told Karen.

 

“I couldn’t just...not over the phone,” she said.

 

“I know.”

 

“I didn’t know how.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Any change?” Stella asked, directing her question more at Fish than Karen.

 

Karen and Hank broke apart and Karen moved on to hug Stella fiercely.  Fish answered that there was no change, but they were expecting one of Becca’s doctors to come around at any moment with an update.  Hank sank down in one of the chairs across from Fish and Karen stayed standing, holding Stella’s hands. Her eyes were wet.

 

“I saw her briefly,” Karen said.  “When they were bringing her back from having her shoulder wrapped.”

 

“How did she look?” Hank asked.

 

“Like she’d been in a car accident,” Karen answered, her voice pinched and strained.  Stella squeezed her hands gently.

 

Shortly thereafter, the doctor they’d been expecting came into the waiting room.  Stella thought the girl looked not much older than Becca herself, but she spoke authoritatively and confidently.  She was young, but clearly experienced. She explained that Becca would be kept in ICU overnight as a precaution, that the shoulder would stay wrapped for a few days, but then the temporary cast would come off and she’d need some physical therapy.  There was some protesting when she suggested they go home and come back in the morning, but as though she foresaw a compromise was necessary, she said she would allow them a quick five minutes in Becca’s room for reassurance that she was doing well, and that they would be permitted to see her under the normal rules and regulations of visiting hours as soon as she was installed in a regular room upstairs.

 

They made a melancholy crew, the four of them, following the doctor down the hall to Becca’s room.  Stella was fairly certain she was the only one, aside from the doctor, with experience in visiting an ICU, and she knew from experience, most treated the experience in the same somber, anxiety-fueled way they might treat a visit to a funeral home.  She’d seen people completely break down, seen them refuse to even enter a room, seen them get angry, seen them bear the sight of a loved one in distress with restraint and stoicism. She was prepared for the reactions of Hank, Karen, and Fish, but she was unprepared for her own.  As they neared the door, her impulse was to turn away. She did not want to see Becca in this position.

 

Had Hank not grasped Stella’s hand tightly when the doctor opened the door to Becca’s room, she may not have followed them inside.  She did her best to remain cool and collected, but it was difficult. Rationally, she knew Becca was alright, that the damage could have been so much worse, but looking at her lying in her sedative-induced state of unconsciousness, the left side of her face cut and speckled with dried blood, a gash across her forehead, shoulder plastered and immobile, it was one of those obnoxious reminders of how fragile life was.  She dealt with it on such a regular basis that she considered herself to be fairly numb to tragedy. Maybe numb was the wrong word, but she was rarely affected. The personal experience was almost indescribable.

 

“Can she hear us?” Karen asked.

 

“Well,” the doctor explained.  “She isn’t in a coma. She’s asleep.”

 

“We used to turn the HiFi on when she napped as a baby,” Hank said.  “And she didn’t wake up. Do you remember that?”

 

Karen nodded.

 

It was the only conversation to be had.  For the rest of their time, the group maintained a silent vigil over Becca’s bed until the doctor looked at her watch and cleared her throat.  Hank bent over and kissed the unmarred side of Becca’s face and Karen ran her fingers lightly over her hair. Stella was compelled to make a connection with Becca herself, to let her know she was there in some small way.  She touched her wrist and slid her fingers down to her pulse. Feeling the tiny beats of life gave her a reassurance she didn’t know she needed. She backed away, and the doctor ushered them all out of the room.

 

Their morose bubble of silence burst as soon as they were back in the waiting room.  They were all empty of their adrenaline-fueled energy once they’d seen Becca for themselves and it was clear just how tired everyone was.  Fish was thumbing his car keys begrudgingly.

 

“It would be an act of insanity to drive back to Connecticut tonight,” Hank said, turning to Stella.  “They should stay at the loft,” he said to her, and then turned back to Karen and Fish. “You should stay at the loft.”

 

“Of course,” Stella agreed, she’d been about to make the suggestion herself.

 

“Is that…”  Karen seemed momentarily unsure, but then nodded.  “It’s closer.”

 

“And we should take a taxi,” Stella added, looking into Fish’s bloodshot eyes.  “You’ve been here all day. It’s nearly 4am London time. I don’t believe any of us are fit to operate a vehicle at the moment.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Fish said.

 

Karen pulled out her phone.  “I’ll look for a Lyft.”

 

They were home in under fifteen minutes, shuffling like zombies onto the elevator.  The attache over Stella’s shoulder felt heavier and heavier as time went on. Hank practically dragged their duffle bag behind him.  They pointed Karen and Fish to the separate den area that served as a guest room, mostly used by Becca, and left them to get settled.

 

In bed, Hank curled up behind Stella in a loose fetal position with his arm over her hip.  His head was pressed lightly between her shoulders. She was exhausted, but she couldn’t seem to fall asleep.  Neither could Hank, apparently.

 

“My biggest fear when Becca was a baby was somehow, inadvertently killing her,” Hank said, suddenly.

 

“I’m sure that’s quite common,” Stella replied.

 

“It was stupid shit, like what if I fed her something and it turned out to be poisonous for babies and I didn’t know.  Or what if I was holding her and taking out the trash and I accidentally threw her down the trash chute instead because my brain somehow couldn’t tell the difference between a trash bag and a baby.  Or what if I was taking her uptown in her stroller and I got too close to the edge of the platform and her stroller went over and she got hit by a train.”

 

“That sounds awful.”

 

“It was.  And I always told myself it would get easier as she got older, because she would be less dependent on us as time went by and one day I’d stop congratulating myself for getting through 24 hours without killing my daughter.”

 

“When did it get easier?”

 

“It didn’t.  It just became different.”

 

Stella shifted and then turned over.  She bent her neck so that her forehead touched his and she cupped the back of his head.  Her fingers sifted through his soft hair and her thumb traced the shell of his ear.

 

“That fear has been there since...not when I found out Karen was pregnant, but when I knew she was keeping the baby.”

 

“Was there ever a question?”

 

“Yeah.  Yeah, there was.”

 

“I didn’t know that.”

 

“I keep wondering now if Becca had that same fear.  And just...fuck, why didn’t she tell us?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“When you told me about it, all I could think about was finding the little fuckface that knocked up my kid and kicking his sorry ass.”

 

“Hank-“

 

“And that’s probably why she didn’t tell me.”

 

“Or perhaps she didn’t know.”

 

“She used to tell me everything.  I was the one she told when she lost her virginity.  Me, not even Karen. It made me nauseous at the time, I think I even threw up in my mouth a little, but...but…”

 

“She knew she could come to you.”

 

“Yes.  Exactly.”

 

“I’m sure she still knows.  If she has reasons, the only thing you can do is respect them.”

 

“I just...I need to see her awake.  Even if she just sits up and tells me to fuck off, I need to see her eyes open.”

 

“You will.”

 

“Sherlock, I’m...I’m grateful that you’re here with me.”

 

There wasn’t an answer Stella felt like she could give for that, so she sought Hank’s lips in the dark and pressed her mouth to his.  He rubbed her shoulder and returned her kiss, but it didn’t last long. He sighed when they broke apart and turned over, curling into a tight little ball.  She put her hand on his back and waited until his breathing evened out to close her eyes.

 

Stella wasn’t sure what woke her in the morning, maybe jet lag or a noise, but she opened her eyes to find that neither she nor Hank had moved much during the night.  He had loosened his body a little and she had moved close enough that her knees touched the back of his thighs, but their positions were the same. Judging by the grey shadows in the room, it was still early, but she felt rested enough.

 

A soft clatter outside the room caught her attention and she sat up.  One of their houseguests was awake and her money was on Karen. She slipped out of bed and grabbed her silk robe from the back of the bathroom door, tying it on before she went out into the main living area.  Sure enough, Karen was in the kitchenette, peering into cupboards.

 

“Can I get you something?” Stella asked her.

 

“Shit!” Karen said, turning quickly.  “I woke you? I’m sorry.”

 

“I was awake.  What are you looking for?”

 

“I was gonna make coffee, but…”

 

“I don’t know that we have any.  We tend to frequent the bodega around the corner when we’re in town.”

 

“Well, that explains it then.”  Karen rubbed one of her arms and looked around the room. 

 

“I could go down and pick some up.”

 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that.  I could...I mean, I woke you-”

 

“You didn’t wake me.”

 

“Can I go with you?”

 

“Of course.  Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

 

Stella went back into the bedroom and quietly shut the door.  There was a nervous, fretful energy coming from Karen that she hadn’t experienced from her before.  She supposed it had to do with the situation with Becca, but she had a feeling there was more to it than that.  She dressed quickly in a dark blue wrap dress, clipped her hair back, and brushed her teeth. Hank was still sleeping, though he looked distressed.  His jaw was slack, but his brows were pulled together. She ran her thumb lightly over the crease in his forehead and kissed the corner of his mouth.

 

“Going to pick up coffees with Karen,” she whispered.

 

Hank grunted softly and his mouth fell open.  His brows twitched together with more tension, but then relaxed.  She grabbed her wallet before she left the room.

 

It was cool outside, but the crispness of Spring was gone.  It would likely be a pleasant day, not hot or cold. Morning traffic hadn’t reached peak yet, but horns still blared in the distance, and it was too early for the boutiques and restaurants on their street to be open, so pedestrian traffic was light.

 

“How’s Hank?” Karen asked suddenly.

 

“Fine,” Stella answered.  “And not fine. The same as you I imagine.”

 

“You think I’m not fine?”

 

“Did you sleep?”

 

“Not really.”  Karen looked up as though she were studying the townhomes they passed with an interest in their design, and perhaps she was.  “I just forget sometimes, you know?”

 

“Forget what?”

 

“That Hank isn’t my responsibility.  I feel like I’ve spent half my life making sure he was okay.”

 

“Were you up worrying about Becca, or about Hank?”

 

“Yes.”  Karen stopped abruptly and took Stella’s arm to stop her as well.  “It’s almost impossible for me to think of them as two people. If you knew what it was like...when Becca was a little girl, it was like...like they were one entity.  What happened to one happened to the other. If Becca was upset about something, Hank was more upset. If Hank was upset, Becca was inconsolable. They liked and disliked the same things, which was cute, you know, it really was, but also almost...otherworldly.”

 

“Were you ever jealous of that connection?”  Stella’s thoughts turned briefly to her own mother, but if she knew one thing for sure, Karen was nothing like her mother.  

 

“No.  Yes. Not jealous.  I didn’t wish to have that extreme kind of connection, but it made my bond with both of them feel weak in comparison.”

 

“I do know what that’s like.”

 

“You do?”

 

“I was close with my father as well, but my mother couldn’t cope with that.  She divorced him and blamed me for ruining their relationship.”

 

“How old were you when your parents divorced?”

 

“Around two.”

 

“Two!” Karen exclaimed, a look of outrage crossing her face.  “She blamed a two year old for...Jesus Christ what a fucking cuntface!”

 

A soft laugh tumbled out of Stella’s mouth.  It came and went quite quickly, but she couldn’t stop the smile it left behind.  

 

“Hank more or less expressed the same sentiments,” Stella said. “To her face.”

 

“Oh my god, he didn’t!”

 

“He did.  I only wish I’d been there to see hers.”

 

“You still keep in touch?”

 

“No, she passed away just a few months ago.  Shortly after the wedding, actually. The one and only time Hank met her was the first time I’d seen her in over a decade.”

 

“I want to tell you I’m shocked and can’t imagine not being present in your own child’s life, but then I suddenly remembered that I have no idea when the last time I saw my parents.”

 

“They’re still living?”

 

“Yeah, they retired to Florida what seems like a million years ago.  They weren’t hugely supportive of my choices in life and I guess you can say we just drifted apart as people.  I mean, we do speak on occasion, birthdays or holidays, and that’s about it. God, I hope Becca never feels like that about me, or Hank.”

 

“I think that’s unlikely.”

 

“Why didn’t I ever know that about your mother?”

 

“It isn’t really dinner party conversation.”

 

“But, I mean...I don’t know what I mean, actually.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but you are so present in my daughter's life, and mine by extension, it seems strange not to know you better.”

 

“I don’t know that much about you either.”

 

“I would’ve thought that Hank...oh my god, how fucking narcissistic of me.”

 

“Of course Hank talks about you.  That’s his perspective, however.”

 

“Well now I feel like I’m on a blind date and I don’t quite know what to say.”

 

“Let’s go get the coffee then and maybe something will come to both of us.”

 

“Coffee, yes.  I almost forgot what we were doing out here.”

 

At the bodega, they picked up four coffees and breakfast sandwiches.  Both Hank and Fish were up and about when they got back to the loft. Fish was rumpled, but in good spirits, as usual.  Hank was shirtless with his jeans partially unbuttoned and a bad case of bedhead and morning stubble. It was actually one of Stella’s favorite looks on him.  She put her hands on his chest and leaned close to him as he hooked an arm around her shoulders and sipped his coffee.

 

“Ah, ladies,” Fish said, sighing appreciatively over his coffee cup.  “Moody, we got the best girls in the world, right here.” He clapped Hank on the back, causing him to splutter and coffee to dribble down his chin.  Stella held his coffee for him as he wiped his face with a napkin.

 

They arrived at the hospital before visiting hours and were made to wait in a smaller, less comfortable waiting room on the sixth floor.  Becca had already been transferred out of the ICU. They just had to wait until the requisite hour and they could go in, two at a time. They all agreed that Hank and Karen should go in first.

 

A half an hour after Karen and Hank went into Becca’s room, they came back out.  Hank seemed agitated and Karen had a list of items she wanted to get to make Becca more comfortable for the next few days she’d be in the hospital.  

 

“Go on in,” Hank told Stella.  “I just want to take a walk.”

 

“Is everything okay?” she asked.

 

“It’s fine.  I just feel like taking a walk.”

 

Fish decided to go with Karen, so Stella went into Becca’s room alone.  The girl was awake, but drowsy, probably an after affect of the medication they put her on.  She regarded Stella with heavy-lidded eyes, but then stretched her fingers out to her and Stella took her hand.

 

“Do you have a mirror?” Becca asked.

 

“I don’t think so,” Stella answered, her hand going to the small handbag pressed to her hip.  “Wait, I’ve my phone. That could work.”

 

“Yeah, good enough.”

 

Stella brought out her phone and opened the forward-facing camera on it before she handed it to Becca.  Becca inspected her face in the mirror and lightly traced the line of stitches along her forehead. The right side of her face had been spared any damage, it was only the left that suffered cuts and bruises.

 

“There probably won’t be much scarring,” Stella said.  “Except for that cut above the brow.”

 

“Scars don’t bother me.  They’re like little badges of an interesting life.”

 

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

 

Becca handed the phone back to Stella.  “Mom wouldn’t let me look. I thought I must look pretty hideous or something.”

 

“You don’t look hideous at all.  How are you feeling?”

 

“Drugged up.  Everything feels heavy.  It’s kind of weird. I don’t remember the accident.”

 

“That happens a lot.”

 

“Are they mad at me?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Mom and Dad.”

 

“I can’t imagine why you’d think that.”

 

Becca turned her head a little towards the curtain separating her bed from the other bed in the room.  It was empty. Stella had to pass it on her way to Becca’s. The curtain seemed to be closed out of habit than necessity.  

 

“I guess you all know now,” Becca said, cutting her eyes back to Stella and then turned her gaze down.  She plucked at the fuzz on the blanket next to her hip.

 

Stella sat down next to Becca.  “Did you know?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“How far out where you?”

 

“Six weeks.  I’ve only known though for like a week.”

 

“Is the father in your life?  Should we call him for you?”

 

“We have more of a casual thing.  I didn’t tell him. He’s just a friend.”  

 

“Your friends would still want to know that you’re in hospital, I’m sure.”

 

“No, it’s okay.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Becca stopped plucking at the fuzz on the blanket and moved on to chewing at her bottom lip.  Her eyes became glassy and pooled with tears. She blinked and one rolled down the side of her cheek over the little cuts on her face.  Stella took a tissue from a box next to Becca’s bed and dabbed lightly at the track left behind.

 

“I hadn’t decided what to do about it yet,” Becca said.  “So, I didn’t tell anyone.”

 

“I’m sorry this is how we found out.”

 

“I almost called you a few days ago.  I thought maybe...maybe you’d know what…”

 

“Are you asking if I’ve ever been in your position?”

 

“No, that’s none of my business.  I mean, in your line of work maybe...I mean you must have seen…”

 

“I have been in your shoes, Becca, and I’ll tell you that without shame or regret, but I am not you and you are not me.  The only advice I can give you is that you should do what you feel is right for you. It’s your decision to make, and only you can make that choice because only you will have to deal with the consequences of either decision.”

 

“Not anymore,” Becca said, with a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

 

“I wish that hadn’t been taken away from you.”

 

“I don’t want kids.  It should’ve been easy.”

 

“Darling girl, it’s never easy.”

 

“I still feel sad about it.  Is that stupid?”

 

“No.”

 

Becca sighed a little and then turned to look out the window.  After awhile, her eyelids began to flutter and then closed. She shifted and sort of melted into sleep quite quickly after that.  Stella waited for some time, just watching her, and then she quietly slipped from the room.

 

Hank was back in the waiting area when she came out, his head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed.  She sat down beside him and put her hand on his thigh. He didn’t open his eyes.

 

“How is she?” he asked.

 

“She’s asleep.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Why did you come out of her room looking so disturbed?”

 

Hank blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling.  “She apologized to us for our trouble,” he said. “Like it was her fault some asshole plowed into the taxi she was riding in.  The only person who should be apologizing is that asshole, to my daughter.”

 

“That’s what upset you?”

 

“She’s too good to have anything bad happen to her.”

 

“Unfortunately, the world doesn’t work like that.”

 

“It should.”

 

“You’re right.”  She squeezed his thigh and relaxed back in the chair next to him.  “She gets it from you, you know.”

 

“Gets what?”

 

“You’re a good man.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“You are.”

 

Hank shook his head just as Fish and Karen came into the waiting room.  Fish was holding a gigantic helium balloon shaped like a teddy bear supported by a long plastic wand.

 

“What the fuck is that?” Hank asked.

 

“The others were too dinky,” Fish answered.

 

“You’re not in with her?” Karen asked.

 

“She’s asleep,” Stella answered.  

 

“Go sit with her,” Hank said, nodding at Karen and looking up at Fish’s balloon.  “Go give her that scaryass mylar monstrosity.”

 

“He’s using his big boys words ‘cause he’s threatened,” Fish stage whispered to Karen.  “You hear that, he said ‘mylar.’”

 

Karen rolled her eyes a little and tugged on Fish’s elbow.  “Come on,” she said.

 

“Still think I’m a good guy?” Hank asked, after they’d left.

 

“No, I’ve completely reversed my opinion of you after the terrible manner in which you insulted a balloon.”

 

“See.”

 

“Do you trust my judgment, Watson?”

 

“Always, Sherlock.”

 

“Do you think I’d be with you if you weren’t a good man?”

 

“Sounds like a trick question.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I have to answer honestly.”

 

Stella moved her hand off Hank’s thigh and laced their fingers together.  She leaned back like he was, but put her head on his shoulder.

 

“If it makes you feel any better that balloon was quite hideous.”

 

Hank chuckled and displaced Stella momentarily to put his arm around her. “It does,” he said.  “It does make me feel a thousand times better.”

 

The End

 


End file.
